Dead Hearts
by HarvestMoonLuv
Summary: Armin dreams of strange things: giant walls that tower fifty metres into the sky, protecting the cities inside from huge, man-eating creatures; the people that fight them, flying through the air. They wake him up screaming in the middle of the night, reaching for someone who isn't there. But he doesn't think much of them, until his friends start dying in them, one by one.
1. Chapter 1

_Did you see the closing window?_

_Did you hear the slamming door?_

_They moved forward, my heart died_

_They moved forward, my heart died_

-_Dead Hearts_, Stars

Armin stood quietly with the airline employee, one small hand gripping the handle of his suitcase and the other on the strap of his backpack. The airport was loud, and people bustled around him, though none of them seemed to be Armin's grandfather. He almost didn't want him to arrive, because maybe, if he didn't show up, Armin would be sent back to England and it would be revealed that everything was a big misunderstanding and he'd be given back to his parents.

But that would never happen. There'd been too much evidence incriminating them; too much evidence showing how terrible they were at looking after Armin. Still, he wanted nothing more than for this strange nightmare to end and for him to go back to the life he knew—to everything that was familiar.

He'd been taken away from his parents two months ago. He remembered the police arriving late at night—their loud pounding on the front door had woken Armin up. The police had arrested his parents and taken Armin to a big building where he'd been put in a room with an old couch and some toys for hours and hours while a bunch of people tried finding any of his relatives to take him in.

But no one had wanted to take him; some of them hadn't even known of his existence beforehand. So Armin was put into the foster system for a week before an aunt decided to take him in, though she insisted it was only temporarily. Armin had hated being with her; she didn't have any kids his age, and she had a mean cat that spent the whole time hissing and scratching at him.

Eventually, his aunt got in contact with Armin's paternal grandfather, who lived in America. He hadn't heard about his son's arrest until then, and hadn't seen him since before Armin was born. Still, he decided that he'd take the small boy in, and even payed for Armin's passport, Visa, and plane ticket. Armin had climbed aboard the plane early the previous morning, put under the care of an airline employee, the same one who stood with him now.

He was absolutely exhausted—he'd been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and missed his bed and his house and even his parents. He'd been allowed to bring whatever he could fit into his backpack and suitcase, which consisted mostly of clothes, his favourite books, and his ratty old teddy bear. None of it even smelled like his old house anymore; his aunt had washed everything the minute he'd stepped into her house, saying it all stank to high heaven.

Suddenly, the airline employee—whose name was Madeline—was tapping Armin's shoulder and pointing to an old man who was making his way through the crowd, a wide smile on his face. Armin froze, and watched as the man stopped and kneeled in front of him. He had a scruffy, graying beard and warm brown eyes, with weathered skin that was etched with wrinkles.

"Hello, Armin," he said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "It's very nice to meet you."

Armin didn't say anything as he drove to his new house with his grandfather. He sat quietly in the backseat, staring out the window and watching the buildings zoom by. His grandfather lived in a peaceful, quiet neighbourhood with identical, spaced-out houses and trimmed green lawns. It was nothing like where Armin had lived before, where it was dangerous to be out past dark.

Here, kids played in the streets. Some of them waved to Armin's grandfather as he drove past, and he smiled and waved back. A woman pushed a baby along in a stroller, and a boy walked his dog. It was like one of the neighbourhoods Armin saw on TV—friendly and clean and perfect.

His grandfather's house was just like all the others, with a brown shingled roof and pale yellow siding. Just looking at it Armin could tell it was bigger than his old house. His grandfather parked the car in the driveway and got out, opening Armin's door for him. The small boy climbed out, clutching his backpack and glancing around. He could hear the kids playing down the street now, and they talked loudly and laughed with each other.

"Give me the ball!"

Armin watched as a boy with messy brown hair chased a girl with dirt all over herself and a basketball in her hands around the driveway of a house a few doors down. A girl with straight black hair pushed back by a flowery headband sat on the ground giggling at them, a piece of chalk in her hands. Armin couldn't see what she had been drawing, but it looked colourful and spanned most of the driveway.

He felt a sudden pang when the boy stopped chasing the girl and looked up at him. He couldn't see him too well from where he was standing, but everything about his face seemed familiar. Armin wasn't sure how, though, as he'd never see the boy in his life. He quickly turned his head away when the boy started smiling at him, looking towards his grandfather.

"That's Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha," the man explained, putting a hand on Armin's shoulder. "They all live on this street. I'm sure you'll become good friends with them."

Armin nodded quietly, and let his grandfather lead him inside. He looked back as he walked through the door, seeing the boy pointing at him with a wide grin on his face and talking excitedly to his friends.

The house was huge, just as Armin thought it would be. It had a nice, homely feel to it and smelled like old people and something that Armin couldn't place. There were pictures everywhere, hung up on the walls and on tables and shelves. Armin didn't recognize most of the people in them, except for one that he was pretty sure was of his father when he was younger.

"That's your daddy," his grandfather said, smiling warmly at the small boy. When Armin didn't say anything, he knelt down beside him, grabbing his hand. "I know this is a lot to take in, Armin. And I know it'll take a while for you to get used to it all. I'm sorry this had to happen to you. But everything will be okay."

Suddenly, tears were welling up in Armin's eyes, and for the first time in two months he didn't try to hold them back.

Later that evening, Armin sat on his new bed in his old pyjamas looking out the window. The stars were just starting to come out, and Armin was glad to realize they looked just like the stars in England. He used to spend hours staring up at the dark sky when he couldn't sleep, and it had become a comforting routine for him.

However, he was distracted from his stargazing when a light was suddenly turned on in the house next door. Looking over at it, he saw the boy from earlier, Eren, sitting on a bed in almost the exact same position as Armin's, smiling widely as his parents kissed him goodnight. Glancing down at the teddy bear he was gripping in his hands, Armin sniffed slightly and blinked away the tears in his eyes before crawling beneath the blankets and burying his face in his pillow.

The next day, his grandfather took Armin to visit their neighbours, the Jaegers. The door was answered by a woman with straight, tied-back brown hair who smiled brightly when she saw Armin, quickly inviting them in.

"Hello, there," she greeted, leaning down and giving his hand a little shake. Armin noticed that she had a strange accent, though it wasn't American or one he recognized. "I'm Carla. You must be Armin. Your grandfather's told me quite a bit about you!"

He nodded shyly, keeping a tight grip on his grandfather's hand. He'd grown attached to the old man in the twenty-four hours that he's known him—he was one of the first people the boy had ever met that hadn't brushed him off or ignored him.

"How old are you, Armin?" Carla asked.

"Five," Armin said quietly.

Carla's smile grew wider. "I have a son who's about your age," she said. "Why don't we go into the living room and you can meet him?"

Armin nodded, and Carla led them to the living room. He sat close to his grandfather on the couch, still refusing to let go of his hand.

"Eren!" Carla called, walking towards the staircase. "Come here, please!"

"_Warum_?" a small voice answered; Armin strained to hear and understand what he was saying, but quickly realized he wasn't speaking English. He didn't know what language it was, though he figured it was the reason why Carla had such a funny accent.

"We have guests!" Carla replied. "Come on, get down here!"

There was the sound of footsteps upstairs, and then a little boy was hurrying down the stairs, grinning at Armin and his grandfather. It was the same boy Armin had seen both times yesterday, but for the first time he could see him clearly. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of recognition and familiarity, more so than when he'd seen him playing across the street, as if he was seeing an old close friend for the first time in years.

But then he remembered. It was almost like a memory he'd forgotten up until then had suddenly resurfaced. He was being shoved down onto a worn cobblestone street and, bringing his arms up around his face, he realized that the clothes he was wearing weren't his, and looked like they belonged to another time period completely. The boys crowding around him were all wearing the same type of clothing and all the buildings looked almost medieval. However, in the memory, none of that seemed strange to him.

He remembered a sharp pain in his side, and feeling angry. He couldn't remember why though. Then he saw Eren running towards him out of the corner of his eye, and relief flooded him. The other boy looked angry, and was yelling at the kids attacking his friend, but Armin couldn't understand what he was saying.

Before anything else could happen, though, he was back on the couch beside his grandfather, and Eren was smiling expectantly at him. Everything surrounding the strange memory was nonexistent; where were they? Why were they dressed like that? Who were those boys attacking him? All he knew was that it was something that had definitely never happened to him, yet he remembered it clear as day.

Noticing Armin's baffled expression, Eren repeated the question he'd asked that he hadn't heard. "I asked what your name was." He had the same strange accent as his mother; Armin still couldn't figure out where it was from, though it had stopped bugging him as much.

"Oh. I'm Armin." he said, blinking and looking around the living room. It was still the same as it had been before, with pictures hung on the walls and decorations placed every here and there. He hadn't been transported to some strange, far-off land.

"Armin? That's a funny name," Eren said. Armin shrugged and looked down at the ground.

"Not that that's a bad thing," he corrected quickly, obviously thinking he had hurt Armin's feelings. "I like it."

When Armin didn't say anything, Eren grabbed his hand and pulled him up onto his feet. "Do you wanna play with me?" he asked. "I have _tons_ of cool toys. Come on!"

He didn't wait for a response before dragging the smaller boy upstairs, saying how happy he was that there was another boy in the neighbourhood. Armin felt like he'd been pulled around by this fiery, brown-haired boy hundreds of times before, and for the first time in months something seemed familiar.

Armin quickly fell into the routine of his grandfather's life. Because it was summer, there was no school, which meant he spent most of his time running around the neighbourhood with Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha. He had never had many friends in England; there had been no other kids on his street, and he had mostly sat and read by himself at school.

He really enjoyed the company of his three new friends, however. As soon as Eren had introduced him to Mikasa and Sasha, he'd had the same odd feeling that he already knew them. Mikasa was a cheerful, albeit quiet, girl who shared his love of reading, though the first time he saw her smile it had seemed a bit out of place to him, though he didn't know why. He tried not to dwell on it too much, though. Sasha was loud and boisterous, and was always cracking jokes. She also loved to eat, and when she met Armin the first thing she'd told him was that he was too skinny, almost like a worried mother. He found out a few days after his arrival that the Jaegers were originally from Germany, and that Eren had actually been born there, which explained their accents.

Armin was much happier than he thought he would be. He found some of the things Americans did a little strange, but he wasn't miserable. Nothing like what happened in Eren's living room happened again, either, though he thought about it all the time. No matter how much he thought about it, however, he couldn't figure it out.

About a week after he arrived, his grandfather took him shopping at the local mall. It was much bigger than any mall Armin had ever been to, something that was becoming a trend: everything was bigger here. It was a Tuesday so it wasn't too crowded, and Armin was allowed to get a book.

He was looking forward to reading it when they got home, but as the pulled onto the street he saw several cars parked around his grandfather's house. Clutching tightly at the book in his hands, he waited until he and his grandfather were standing at the door to ask what was going on.

"Everyone thought it might be nice to have a little surprise party for you," he explained, and Armin froze. "To welcome you here."

The only parties he knew were ones with lots of people and loud music that lasted well into the early morning. The type his parents liked to throw. So when his grandfather led him through the door and he saw all the people gathered in the kitchen and living room, the last thing he wanted to do was go talk to them.

But that's what he was expected to do. Slowly, he walked to where everyone could see him and stood there as they crowded around him, talking happily as he tried to smile but didn't really succeed. Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha managed to shove their way through the crowd so that they were standing right in front of Armin, all smiling widely.

"Hi, Armin!" Eren greeted happily. Mikasa waved at him, and Sasha grinned through her mouthful of food.

"Hi," Armin said quietly, his voice barely audible above the chatter of the people who had started to disperse.

"What's that?" Mikasa asked, looking at the book in Armin's hands. He held it up for them to see, and Eren wrinkled his nose at it.

"Books are boring," he said. "Let's play something!"

Sasha nodded in agreement, though Mikasa shot him a rather dirty look for his comment about books being boring. Armin told them he just had to put his book away, and scurried off to his room. Shutting the door behind him, he sank to the ground with his hands over his ears. He could still hear everyone talking and laughing, and he hated it. He hated parties.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and put the book on his dresser. Then he carefully took the blanket from the end of his bed and a pillow and opened his closet door. He knew he'd told Eren and Mikasa and Sasha that he'd be right back, but he did not to go out there again. Shuffling a few things around, the small boy wrapped the blanket around himself and crouched down in the corner of his closet, struggling a bit to close the door before actually managing to do it.

When he was much younger, he would simply cry whenever his parents threw parties. He would sit in his room and cry and cry until his mother came in and tried to get him to shut up. But she would be rough with him like she always was when she drank, so he learned not to cry. Even when he fell and hurt himself and his mother hadn't had a drink in a while he never cried.

Instead he hid in his closet. When his parents had parties or they drank or the foul stench that seemed to cling to everything in their house grew stronger he would hide in his closet with his blanket and pillow and he'd try to block the world out.

He once read about how animals had different defense mechanisms to protect themselves; some were poisonous and some could blend into their surroundings and some had long sharp claws they could use to fight.

Armin's defense mechanism was hiding.

It took a while for people to realize Armin was missing. Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha had wandered off while waiting for him to come back, figuring he'd find them eventually, considering he did live there. But after about ten minutes, with no sign of the blond-haired boy, Eren decided to go looking for him.

A scan of the main level proved fruitless, and he wasn't sure if he was allowed to go upstairs, so he sought out Armin's grandfather.

"Mr. Arlert!" he cried, finding the old man talking to Mikasa's father. "Have you seen Armin? I can't find him anywhere."

"What? Really?" Armin's grandfather asked, looking around the room. "I'm not too sure where he is, actually… Why don't you check his room? It's upstairs, second one on the right."

"Thank you!" Eren said, before running off and up the stairs. He easily found Armin's room, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. "Armin!" he called, walking around the room and checking under the bed. "Armin, where are you?"

He was just about to leave when he heard a small sound coming from the closet, like someone sniffing. Frowning, he went over and opened the door to find Armin huddled in the corner, wrapped in a blanket with a pillow over his head. He looked like he was trying not to cry, and seemed shocked when he saw Eren standing in front of him.

"Armin?" Eren kneeled down, looking at his friend with concern. "Armin, what are you doing in the closet?"

Armin swiped his hand across his eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "I didn't want to go back out there…" he said quietly.

Eren looked confused. "Why?" he asked. "Mikasa and Sasha are waiting for us. Come on!"

Armin shook his head at Eren's outstretched hand, shrinking back further into the closet. "I don't wanna go back out there," he said. "I… I don't like parties."

Eren seemed to be even more confused by this statement. "What!" he cried, throwing his hands into the air. "How can you not like parties? They're the best!"

"I just don't like them," Armin repeated, glancing down at the ground.

"That's no reason to cry though," Eren said, crouching down so he could see Armin's face.

The blond blushed at Eren's statement, before scowling at him. "I was not crying," he snapped, bringing the blanket up around his face.

"You were too," Eren retorted. "I'm not stupid, Armin. Now come on. You can't hide in here until the party is over."

Armin realized that Eren was probably right, but that didn't make him want to leave any more. He shook his head, flinching as a loud burst of laughter came from downstairs. Eren furrowed his eyebrows at him, before crawling into the closet and sitting down beside the smaller boy.

"Eren?" Armin asked, peeking out from under the blanket.

"I'm not gonna leave you here alone!" Eren said, almost as if Armin was stupid for not understanding that. "Friends don't let their friends sit in closets alone. And if you don't wanna go out then I have to sit here with you."

"Eren, you really do—,"

"Don't care," Eren cut him off, prying part of the blanket from Armin's hands and wrapping it around himself. "Mikasa and Sasha can just play by themselves."

Armin wanted to protest further, but it was nice having someone with him. It made him a lot less scared.

Armin's grandfather found them about an hour later, sound asleep, with their heads pressed together. He didn't wake them up, though, instead quietly closing the door and going back to the party.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello everyone! I forgot to make an author's note for the last chapter, sorry about that. :/ **

**But I'm basically hoping to be able to upload a new chapter per week, so we'll see how that goes. It all depends on how much schoolwork I get and how addicted I become to the new Pokemon game. Also I pretty much know how I want this story to go, so there hopefully won't be any random hiatuses. **

**I'll also be posting this story on AO3: /works/1004552/chapters/1990497**

**And on my Tumblr account: post/64333030484/dead-hearts-chapter-1**

_Howling ghosts they reappear_

_In mountains that are stacked with fear_

_But you're a king and I'm a lionheart_

_A lionheart_

_-King and Lionheart,_ Of Monsters and Men

School started a few weeks later. Armin was enrolled in the local elementary school, in kindergarten; he was thankfully put in the same class as Eren and Mikasa but, much to their dismay, Sasha got put in another class. The night before the first day, he sat in the living room with his grandfather, putting his school supplies into his brand new backpack.

"Mummy helped me pick out my stuff for school last year," Armin said quietly, putting a brand-new pack of markers into the backpack. "She didn't buy everything that was on the list, though, because she said I didn't need it."

Armin rarely talked about his parents or what it had been like with them. His grandfather didn't even know what exactly had happened. He knew they had been arrested after Armin called 999 one night, but he didn't know why the boy had done what he had done and he refused to talk about it. He also knew his son and daughter-in-law had been charged with several accounts of drug use and possession, as well as child abuse and neglect. About a month after their arrest, Armin had testified against his parents in court, but he had only said the bare minimum; just enough to prove what they had done.

Mikasa, Eren, and Sasha had no idea why Armin had really moved in with his grandfather. Instead he told them that his parents had gone away, almost hoping they'd interpret that as them dying. Of course, their parents knew a bit, but that was even less than what his grandfather knew. Maybe one day Armin would tell the whole story, but for now he kept it bottled up inside, only bringing the memories out when he was by himself, carefully going over them with unsure emotions.

The next morning, Armin's grandfather walked with him to the bus stop. Eren was already there with his mother, standing by the stop sign. He perked up when he saw Armin, smiling widely at him.

"This is gonna be the best school year ever!" he said cheerfully, rocking back on his heels.

Armin nodded slightly, picking at the sleeves of his sweater. He knew this year would be much better than his last one, but he still had reservations about it. Before he could think too much, however, Mikasa and Sasha arrived, grinning and talking happily. The bus came soon after, yellow and looming as it stopped in front of the group of kids and adults. The doors opened, and an older lady with short graying hair smiled down at them. Eren grabbed Armin's hand, leading him towards the bus and up the stairs. The small boy was able to give his grandfather a quick wave before the doors shut and they all took their seats.

They were the youngest kids on the bus, and sat at the very front, two to a seat; Armin with Eren, and Mikasa with Sasha. The ride wasn't very long, though Armin wished it was longer; anything to prolong getting to school.

Normally, Armin loved school. He had only been in reception in England and he hadn't had any friends, but it had been a chance to get away from home and learn new things. And while he had friends this time, he was actually happy at home; his grandfather had tons of books that he would read to Armin, and they often talked about the things he liked. Eren was always over, and they were often outside running around with Mikasa and Sasha. Going to school would thrust him right back into the unfamiliar just as he was finally getting used to his new life. He still tried to be excited though, listening attentively as Eren chatted with him the entire way.

As they climbed off the bus at school, Armin kept his grip tight on Eren's hand. Mikasa grabbed Armin's other hand, and Sasha grabbed her's. Together, they walked to the front of the school where the other students were lining up by their teachers. They had to leave Sasha then, but there were only two kindergarten classes, side by side, so they were able to stay relatively close to each other. Armin stood quietly at the back of the line as the remaining buses arrived and the kids on them got off. It didn't seem anyone else from their class would be arriving, so when the bell rang and their teacher led them inside he stayed at the back, behind Eren and Mikasa.

The classroom was near the front of the school, in a little hallway that branched off near the office. There were about five classrooms in it, all for kindergarten and first grade. It wasn't much different from his class in England; the desks were put together in groups of four, and there were posters and drawings tacked up everywhere. There was a box with markers, pencil crayons, and other supplies in it in the middle of each group, and a name tag was stuck to the corner of every desk with Velcro.

Everyone was told to find their names. Armin found his quickly, though he realized that neither Eren nor Mikasa were in his group. This made him a little nervous, but he still sat down, keeping his eyes focused on his hands.

When everyone was settled, the teacher stood at the front of the classroom, smiling at them all. She introduced herself, and told them several things about herself, like what things she liked to do and where she was from. She then told them to introduce themselves like she had, starting with the boy sitting beside Mikasa. As he stood up, Armin glanced over at him, and felt that same strange feeling he'd gotten when he first met Eren.

The boy had short light brown hair and dark eyes, and as he stood he gave everyone a big smirk that Armin could only describe as undoubtedlyhim—which confused him to no end, as he'd never seen the boy before in his life. Armin felt as if his name was on the very tip of his tongue, but no matter how hard he thought he couldn't remember it. It was like it was buried in the deepest part of his mind, and refused to move.

However, when the boy introduced himself as Jean, it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world—of course his name was Jean. What else would it be? Even as he sat down, Armin kept his eyes focused on him. Nothing else like that happened with the rest of his classmate's introductions, though. None of them felt familiar, none of them had names Armin felt he should know.

When it was finally his turn, he slowly stood up, balling his hands nervously around the sleeves of his sweater. Everyone's eyes were on him, most of them wanting to know who the kid they'd never seen before was. "Um, I'm Armin," he started, stuttering and fumbling around his words. "I like to read and draw, and—,"

"You sound funny," one of the other students cried out, cutting him off. "Why do you sound funny?" The teacher quickly scolded them, telling them not to interrupt, before motioning at Armin to continue.

"Uh, I'm from England," he said quietly. "Everyone sounds like this there."

This seemed to fascinate the majority of the class. "Where's England?" someone asked, looking from Armin to the teacher.

"It's in Europe," she explained, going over to the board and pulling down a map. She pointed to where they were, in America, before showing them all where England was. "It's this island right here. Where in England did you live, Armin?"

"London," he said, slowly sitting back down. Everyone was looking at either him or the board, and when he glanced at Eren he had the biggest grin on his face. He still didn't like having so many eyes on him, and curled in on himself, picking at his nails.

"Why did you move here?" the teacher asked, general curiosity in her voice.

"Um, I-I came to live with my grandfather," Armin explained. The teacher nodded, and thankfully didn't ask any more questions. The next person stood up to introduce themselves, and Armin sank down into his chair.

School wasn't nearly as bad as he had thought, even though he already knew it wouldn't be horrible. The people he sat with in class were nice, though they liked getting him to say different things to hear how they would sound. At lunch and during recesses, he spent his time with Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha. He loved learning, and was one of the smartest people in his class; his teacher was constantly praising him. There were, however, some people who liked to pick on him, but Eren and Mikasa always stood up for him.

Halloween rolled around almost two months after school started. Armin had never really liked the holiday; his parents never took him out trick-or-treating, and instead spent the night at parties, leaving him alone at home. Last year, he had sat in front of the window looking out on the street and had watched the few kids who lived in his neighbourhood walking around with their parents, dressed up. Not many people trick-or-treated on his street, as it wasn't a particularly good area of the city.

This year, however, he would be going with Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha. They were all very scandalized when he told them he'd never gone trick-or-treating, and vowed to fix that. They helped him pick out a costume (a wizard), and ran him through all the ropes as if trick-or-treating were a very serious business.

On October 31st, his grandfather gave him a bag for his candy and brought him over to the Jaegers. Eren's father, Grisha, and Mikasa's father would be taking the four kids around the neighbourhood. Everyone else was already there when he arrived, and left soon after.

Eren, who was dressed a knight, insisted on ringing the doorbell at every house. After a while, Mikasa got tired of this, and punched him in the face to get him to stop. And while she did get in trouble for doing it, Eren stopped, which seemed to make her happy. At about 8:30, they got tired and cold, so they all trekked back to Eren's house. There, they went through their candy together, trading and talking about which were their favourites.

Armin's grandfather came to pick him up near 9pm, and he fell asleep still dressed in his costume.

"Armin, get down!" Eren whispered harshly at the blond boy, grabbing his head and pushing him down behind the pile of snow. "Mikasa will see you!"

"Sorry," Armin said, pressing himself up against the snow. There were several snow balls stacked beside him, ready to be thrown at a moment's notice.

Christmas vacation had started two days ago. Since then, there had already been a large storm that had covered the ground in a foot-tall white, fluffy blanket. Eren had dragged him outside to build snow forts, and they'd ended up in a snowball war with Mikasa and Sasha, who were currently nowhere to be seen.

"Wait… I think I hear them…" Eren muttered, slowly peeking about the snow bank. As soon as he did so, however, there was the sound of two loud battle cries as Mikasa and Sasha jumped over the bank, pelted them with snowballs. Armin was thrown onto his back as he was attacked from all directions, and while Eren attempted to make an escape he didn't get far before a particularly hard throw from Mikasa nearly knocked him over.

"Ha! We win!" Sasha said, grinning at the two boys.

Eren glared at her. "_Dummköpfen_," he mumbled, rubbing his head where Mikasa had hit him.

"Your mom said you're not allowed to say that," Mikasa said, crossing her arms and smirking at him.

"_Dummkopf_!" Eren yelled, sticking his tongue out at her before running off as she started chasing after him.

On Christmas Eve, Armin sat by his window, looking up at the sky. The light was off in Eren's room, just across from his, but he could see the boy's nightlight shining dully from a corner. The moon and stars, however, were bright, and the snow sparkled several feet beneath his window.

He wondered what his parents were doing. He hadn't heard from them since he saw them in court, all those months ago. He wondered if they celebrated Christmas in jail. The holiday had never been horrible for Armin; he would decorate a tree with his parents, and on the morning of December 25th there'd be some presents under the tree—just a few small things, but he always loved them.

Armin didn't miss his parents very often, but as he thought about their past few Christmases together he felt tears stinging his eyes. Shuffling away from the window, he crawled beneath his covers, pulling his blanket up around his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I am so sorry oh god I did not mean for this chapter to take this long (it's mostly because I'm terrible at writing for kids and got distracted by Pokemon).  
I'm gonna really really really try and get the next one up faster.  
ALSO there are implications of abuse in this chapter. It's not described in too much detail, but if that sort of stuff triggers you or makes you uncomfortable PLEASE don't read it. It will be showing up again quite often in other chapters, as well.**

* * *

_Don't be scared of avalanches,_

_Tucked up in my snowy branches._

_I will_

_Oh, I will_

_Oh, I will_

_I will keep you safe._

_-Avalanches_, A Fine Frenzy

Spring arrived in a flurry of rain and melting snow that left behind puddles of mud and slush. Everything felt damp and cold, even as the weather started to warm from the winter months. However, this wasn't enough to keep Armin, Mikasa, Eren, and Sasha inside. Even when it was raining they could be seen outside, jumping through puddles and slipping across the slick grass, generally making a mess of themselves. And while they couldn't care less their parents and grandparents, on the other, weren't too happy about it all.

However, the rain did pass and all the snow melted completely. Summer came, and with it the end of the school year. At first Armin found himself actually missing it, but instead started spending his time reading books from the local library and playing with Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha.

On a particularly hot day in early July, Eren suggested that they go swimming. They asked their parents, and Armin asked his grandfather, and they all agreed. So they put on their bathing suits, grabbed a few towels, and drove the public pool closest to their neighbourhood. It was outside, and was quite large, with three diving boards in different heights and two waterslides.

"This is the größte pool ever!" Eren said, grinning at Armin. "I came here once last summer."

"Grossta?" Mikasa asked, narrowing her eyes at the brown-haired boy. "Eren, why do you always say things in German?"

"Well I don't what it is in English!" Eren said defensively, glaring at her.

"But Armin never speaks British," Sasha said, crossing her arms. "He probably doesn't know a bunch of words in English, too."

"Um… British isn't a real language," Armin pointed out. "We speak English."

Sasha seemed very surprised by this. "What?!" she asked, giving the blond an incredulous look. "Then why do you have that accent? Eren has an accent and it's because he speaks German."

Armin shrugged. "We just do," he said. "Why do you have your accent?"

"I… have an accent?" Sasha asked, her eyes widening a bit and her face going thoughtful. A few second later she looked like she might start going through some sort of existential crisis, so Mikasa quickly changed the subject.

"Who cares about languages and accents?" she said, running over to where her mother had sat down with a book and kicking off her shoes. "Let's go swimming!"

Eren opened his mouth to argue more, but the prospect of swimming obviously seemed much more fun to him as he went over to where his parents were and started to take off his shoes and shirt. Sasha followed suit, as did Armin.

However, as he was about to yank off his shirt and run after his friends, who were impatiently waiting for him so they could take off into the water, he paused. Even though it had almost been a whole year since he moved here, the four friends had never gone swimming or anything like that together before—which meant that Armin always had a shirt on.

Which meant that the jagged scars criss-crossing his chest and back were always covered.

The memory of the incident that was responsible for the scars was fuzzy, almost like an old picture, worn at the edges with stains over the important parts. Except the memory wasn't that old; it had happened less than two years ago. Still, he wasn't sure what had led up to the event. He remembered that it was at night, in the early hours of the morning, and that his father had been drunk and angry about something. Armin doesn't know how he ended up with several long cuts across his body, but he remembers hearing his mother screaming about something, and then a loud crash. She came in to his room a few minutes later and fixed him up, though she didn't do a particularly good job, which means that most of the cuts scarred.

"Armin, hurry up!" Eren called, running over to him. "You're so slow!"

Armin frowned. When he first moved in with his grandfather, the man had seemed very shocked with the scars. He never asked about them, though. Armin didn't know why he had reacted that way, but he didn't want Eren, Mikasa, or Sasha to do the same.

"We're gonna go without you!" Sasha yelled in a sing-songy voice, before slowly making her way towards the pool with Mikasa.

"I'm coming!" Armin called back at her, pursing his lips together. Quickly, he took his shirt off, before he could change his mind, and ran over with Eren to where Sasha and Mikasa were waiting.

Mikasa seemed to be the first to notice the scars. The most noticeable one ran across his chest, just below his collarbone. The others were fainter, running along the side of his ribs and across his stomach. The girl, however, didn't say anything, instead quickly scurrying down the steps leading into the water. Sasha, on the other hand, didn't notice them at all; she was too focused on chasing after Mikasa.

Eren, though, did notice them and, unlike Mikasa, had to ask about them. "Hey, Armin, what happened to your back?" he asked, scowling a little as he looked at the scar that slashed across Armin's back.

Armin paused. "Um… An accident…" he mumbled, sinking into the water so Eren couldn't see the scars anymore. "It's not that important…"

Eren was about to say something else, most likely a question about the 'accident' when Mikasa called over to them.

"What are you two slowpokes doing?" she cried, giggling as Sasha tried to pull her under the water. "Come on!"

Armin stood and ran over to where they were going, hoping Eren would stop asking questions, though he didn't get too far before he fell face-first into the water. When he surfaced, Mikasa, Sasha, and Eren were all laughing.

When first grade starts, all four of them are in the same class. They're often getting in trouble for yelling at each other across the room and actually getting up when they're not supposed to go visit each other; within the first two weeks, Eren gets a phone call home for not only trying to have a conversation with Armin from the opposite side of the class but also for throwing a marker at another student. When the boy isn't allowed to go outside for a few days because of it, they all seem to realize that, if they don't want the same to happen to them, they should just quiet down during class.

In mid-November, they're told to draw their family, labeling all the people in the picture, and that they're going to tell the rest of the class all about it. As everyone else gets to work, Armin sits, staring at the blank page in front of him.

He had no idea who to draw. He was definitely going to include his grandfather, but what about his parents? They were his family, too, and he loved them, no matter what. But he was pretty sure you had to live with someone to include them in a drawing of your family. There were rules, weren't there? There were always rules.

Raising his hand, the small boy waited until the teacher stood and walked over to him. "I don't know what to draw," he said as she kneeled beside him, a slightly confused look on her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "You draw your family."

"But who in my family," Armin said, frowning slightly at the blank paper. "I don't who in my family to draw!"

This only seemed to make the woman more confused. "Well, you would draw your parents, wouldn't you? And any siblings you have." She explained.

"I don't live with my parents, though," Armin told her.

"Why?"

Armin shrugged, looking down at his hands; all the kids around him were watching the conversation, and he really didn't want to say that his parents were in jail.

"Who do you live with, then?" the teacher asked.

"My grandpa." Armin replied, his voice quiet.

"Well, then why don't you draw the two of you together?" she suggested, giving him a small smile. "Your family doesn't have to be big to be a family."

Later that day, Armin sat at the kitchen table, his chin resting atop his hands, staring at the paper in front of him. He'd drawn himself and his grandfather already, but the picture still felt too… empty.

"Grandpa," he spoke up as the old man walked into the kitchen. "Should I add Mummy and Daddy?"

His grandfather paused. "Uh… Well, Armin, if you want to, I think you should," he said, after a few seconds of thinking. "You should draw whoever you consider to be your family."

After a bit of thought, Armin decided he would add his parents. However, when he went to draw them, he realized he couldn't exactly remember what they looked like. He knew that his mother had blonde hair and blue eyes, like he did, and that his father had brown hair and grey eyes, but he didn't remember how long their hair was, or what shade of blonde or brown it was. Should he use the dark brown pencil crayon or the tan one? Would his dad be taller than his grandfather? What type of clothes should they be wearing?

The more he thought about it, the more Armin realized just how much he had forgotten about his parents. It had only been about a year and half since he last saw them, but he hadn't had any form of communication with either of them at all during that time. He didn't even remember what their voices sounded like.

Thinking about this, tears welled up in his eyes. How could he forget that much about his own parents?

His grandfather, seeming to notice the boy's distress, furrowed his eyebrows at him. "Armin, what's wrong?" he asked, kneeling by him.

"I don't remember my parents…" Armin said, his voice muffled as he tried to hold back the tears. "I mean, I remember them, but I can't remember exactly what they looked like or what they sounded like. I'm the worst kid ever…"

His grandfather reached up and grabbed Armin's hands, holding them in his. "Armin, listen to me," he said gently. "You are not a horrible child; your parents are the ones who are horrible. You don't deserve the life you got one bit, okay? And I know your parents probably love you, and you love them, but that doesn't mean that they're meant to look after you."

Armin didn't really understand, but he nodded anyway; the tears still came, however, and he clung to his grandfather as he cried.

He grew very quiet over the next few days. He dreaded having to present his drawing to the class, and when his turn came he got it over with as quickly as possible. Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha all asked him what was wrong, but he always told them that everything was fine. However, as the months passed after the incident, he got less sad over it, and seemed to forget about it almost completely.

Christmas came. One day in mid-December, Armin and his grandfather stood in the living room, surrounded by boxes of ornaments.

"Careful," his grandfather said as the small boy took a glass angel out of its container and walked over to the tree, standing tall in the corner of the room. "That was your grandmother's."

Armin nodded, and gently placed the ornament on the strongest branch he saw. His grandfather gave him a small smile, and the boy watched for a few seconds as the branch bent under the weight of the glass, just to make sure it didn't fall. A few minutes later, when his grandfather handed him an old knitted snowflake, Armin asked him a question that he had been thinking about for a while.

"Grandpa," he started, looking up at the old man. "What was my grandma like?"

His grandfather didn't say anything for a while, mulling the question over. "Well," he said, sitting down on the one clear space on the couch. "She was the sweetest person I've ever known—she was nice to everyone, no matter how they treated her back. She always saw the good in people, and could probably make anyone laugh. But she was as stubborn as anyone can be; she'd go to the ends of the Earth to prove that she was always right."

Armin smiled, tracing the designs of the snowflake in his hands. "I wish I could have met her…" he said quietly.

"Oh, Armin, she would have loved you to bits," his grandfather said, getting up and giving the boy a big hug.

About an hour later, Armin was sitting on the floor looking up at the tree. They'd hung up all the ornaments that would fit, and his grandfather had plugged the lights it; they made the glass ornaments glitter and shine, like colourful stars.

"Do you know how my mummy and daddy are doing?" he asked suddenly, looking over to where his grandfather was sitting, a mug in his hands. He'd started thinking about them a lot as Christmas got closer; he always missed them the most at holidays. "I hope they're okay."

"I'm sure they are," his grandfather said quietly. "They probably miss you as much as you miss them."

Armin shrugged, turning his gaze back to the tree; outside, the setting sun was making the snow orange.

During the summer between first and second grade, Sasha moved to Florida. Armin didn't really pay attention as to why, but he knew he would miss her; they all would. They sat together on her lawn, watching as the boxes full of her stuff were moved from her house to the moving truck. They all cried when it came time to say goodbye, clinging to each other and not wanting to let go. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin stood in the middle of the road, jumping and waving and calling Sasha's name as the Braus' car drove off with the girl in the backseat.

For several weeks they had no idea what to do with themselves; Eren and Mikasa had been with Sasha since they were toddlers, and had never really been without her. They spent more time than they would have liked to lying on the grass in one of their backyards, wondering what to do.

However, in late July, Eren came to the sudden realization that it had almost been two years since Armin moved to America. They were lounging around on the deck behind Mikasa's house, watching as her cat, Milos, wandered around the yard chasing bugs, when he sat up very suddenly, nearly pushing Armin off the bench.

"You've been here for almost two years!" he said, loud enough for Milos to look over at the three children. "Can you believe that?!"

Armin was, actually, a bit surprised when he realized that Eren was right; it had been two years since he'd moved from England. In all honesty, it only felt like a few months to him.

"We should do something to celebrate," Mikasa said, scooping down to pick up her cat as he wandered over to where they were sitting, wondering what all the commotion was about.

"How?" Armin asked.

"What about a party?" Eren suggested. "Just a small one though; just the three of us!"

Armin, who had become nervous at the mention of a party, relaxed. Even though it had been two years, he still hated parties. Almost everyone knew that by now, even if they didn't exactly know the reasons. He'd attended all of Eren, Mikasa, and Sasha's birthdays, but that was about it. He knew now that most parties weren't like the ones his parents would throw, but he just couldn't get over his dislike of them. If it was just the three of them, however, Armin knew he would enjoy himself.

They all agreed on the party idea, though in the end they ended up inviting two more quests: Milos, and Eren's hamster, Piepsen. They had the party in Mikasa's basement, with cookies and juice, and cat treats and yogurt drops for Milos and Piepsen. It lasted quite a while, and they had fun, though Piepsen ended up spending most of it hiding in the microwave of Mikasa's toy kitchen to protect her from Milos, on whom a cup of grape juice got spilled.

Armin still thought it was the best party ever.

Second grade passes by rather uneventfully. They all get several letters from Sasha over the course of the year, wishing them a Merry Christmas or Happy Birthday, or just talking about what she's been up to. When summer comes again they spend their time exploring the forest around their neighbourhood and running through sprinklers. In mid-July Eren goes to Germany for a few weeks to visit his grandparents. Armin and Mikasa sit around reading while he's gone, for the most part, though occasionally they reenact parts from their favourite books using Mikasa's rather extensive dress-up collection. When Eren comes back, the two of them insist on wearing costumes to the woods.

They start third grade in September. The beginning of the school year goes by normally, until Christmas arrives. Winter break had just started, and Armin was sitting in his basement with Eren. They were playing with Armin's toy dinosaurs, and were getting ready for a huge fight to go down between two opposing teams, when the phone rang upstairs. They ignored it at first, but just as the fight was about to start Armin's grandfather called him upstairs. Scowling, the boy put down his dinosaurs.

"Don't start without me!" he called to Eren as he walked up the stairs, finding his grandfather waiting for him at the top, the phone in his hand.

"Armin," he said, handing the phone to his grandson when he reached him. "It's your mother."

Armin froze. His… mother? His mother was calling him. She was on the other side of the phone. Slowly, he took it in his hands, holding it up to his ear. "…Mummy?" his voice was quiet, and even though he was almost nine-years-old now he was suddenly five again, and he was watching his parents getting taken away again.

"Armin. Oh my god, Armin," his mother's voice was different than he remembered it; it sounded sadder, and more troubled.

"Mummy…" Armin repeated, and then he was crying. It didn't matter to him what had happened before he'd been taken away and sent to America; he was a little boy who hadn't heard from his mother in almost four years. And he didn't care that she'd been a terrible parent: he loved her.

"Armin, oh my little boy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." His mother was crying too, and they stayed on the phone together as long as they could, not really saying much but reveling in the sound of each other's voices.

Throughout the whole thing, Eren stood at the bottom of the basement stairs, listening as his best friend cried.

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**AN: I know it started moving really fast near the end, but we're kind of going into this little area where not a lot happens, so I may or may not do a timeskip at the beginning of the next chapter. I'm just trying to get to where all the more exciting stuff starts happening, so bear with me.  
You can also find this story on AO3: /works/1004552/chapters/2048528  
And on my Tumblr: tagged/libbyisactuallywriting  
I'm thinking of making a tag for this story on Tumblr, just so I can post update and stuff like that and it'll be easier to find chapters than looking through my writing tag (though it's relatively new so it's not too cluttered atm).**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: These chapters are taking a lot longer than I'd like to write. :( The bit of story outline I managed to write before starting this fic has proven to be absolutely useless, and I hate writing a chapter without an outline, meaning I've basically been spending one week writing the outline for the chapter (I'm really slow at writing) and then the next actually writing the story. **

**Because of this, I'm probably going to be going on a little hiatus, just so I can write out how I want the next few chapters at least to go. It won't be super long, though; I'm hoping the next chapter will be up by December 8th, if not sooner. But after that they'll almost definitely start coming way faster, so there's that. :)**

**Other than that, there's not much else for me to say, other than that this chapter is shorter than I'd like it to be. Ah well.**

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_Summer was painted on our skin,_

_And those secrets hidden in our childish lips_

_They would die for a kiss._

_Fall was always left in your eyes,_

_Just a fleck of yellow light;_

_Like the sunrise, like the twilight._

_-Weeping Willow_, The Hush Sound

_Armin was standing in the middle of a large crowd. People ran past him, screaming and looking over their shoulders. In the distance, he could see huge, hulking shadows coming towards them; their footsteps shook the ground, and the smell of blood and rocky dust filled the air. _

_"Eren! Mikasa!" Armin called his friends' names as they took off, towards the menacing shadows. "Come back! We need to go! Come back!" The two didn't listen to him, though; they rounded a corner and disappeared. _

_Armin started running then; running with everyone else. He wondered about his grandfather, and Mikasa, and Eren. Where were they? Were they okay?_

_Would he ever see them again?_

_Everything seemed to speed up. Armin was being propelled by some unknown force, wind rushing in his ears and the people and buildings around him molding into one dark blur. He found himself standing on a boat, beside his grandfather. There were dozens of people crowded around him, and he searched their faces for Mikasa or Eren. Those still standing on the bank of the canal yelled loudly at the soldiers keeping them from getting on the boat. In the distance, the giant shadows moved about the town, and dying screams echoed in Armin's ears. _

He woke up with a cry, his heart hammering in his chest. His grandfather was in his room a few seconds later, turning on the light and crouching down beside the boy.

"Armin, what's wrong?" the old man asked, and Armin took several deep, calming breaths.

"I-I had a nightmare," he explained, but when he thought back to it, all he could remember was a dark, miscoloured blur, filled with screams and Mikasa and Eren's names floating through his head.

"Hey, Arlert! Armin!"

Armin turned around at the sound of his name, only to pause and wish he hadn't when he saw who had been calling for him. The boy smirked, running to catch up to him.

It was early October, several months after Armin's nightmare, something he'd all but forgotten about. Fourth grade had started about a month ago, and for the first time he wasn't in the same class as either Eren or Mikasa. He'd been nervous at first, but it hadn't been too horrible until about two weeks after school started. A kid in his class, who had just moved there, decided to start teasing and making fun of Armin, mostly for how he said things. He would sit in class and mimic anything the boy said in a ridiculously horrible accent, loud enough for most of the students to hear but not the teacher. After a few weeks, other kids in their grade were in on it as well. Usually, Armin managed to ignore it.

"Why, hello, Armin!" the boy grinned, adopting the terrible British accent he spoke in around Armin. "Where are you off to on this fine evening?"

Armin didn't say anything, just turning away from him and going on his way. The other boy, however, didn't seem too pleased with this.

"Where are you going, old chap?" he called after him. "Off to visit the Queen? Indeed, tell her I said good evening!"

"Leave me alone!" Armin yelled back; at this point, Eren, who had been standing by a nearby tree with Mikasa, caught sight of the situation.

"Armin, what's going on?" he asked, running over to where his friend stood.

"Nothing…" Taking Eren's hand, Armin started to try and walk away from situation; the other boy, however, wasn't about to give up.

"Don't leave in such a hurry!" he called, still in the same accent, hurrying to catch up to them.

"I said to leave me alone!" Armin cried, whirling around to face the boy. He had a determined look in his eyes, and his teeth were clenched together. Eren, standing behind him, seemed rather surprised by the change in his usually quiet, mild-tempered friend.

The other kid looked shocked, as well. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone started calling his name. The boy cast Armin one last, strange look before running off towards his friends.

Armin sat with his back against a chain-link fence, picking the blades of grass at his feet as Mikasa and Eren stood beside him.

"I just don't get why that kid's picking on you…" Eren muttered, kicking at the ground. "What did you ever do to him?!"

"Eren, it's fine," Armin said, dropping the handful of grass he had collected onto the now-bare patch of earth. "It's not a big deal."

"You can't let people kick you around like that, Armin!" Eren cried, mostly ignoring his friend's attempts to get him to calm down. "Especially that… idiot! He's just a jerk, a moron, a… a… an _Arschloch_!"

Mikasa raised an eyebrow at him. "Eren, I don't know what that means, but I'm pretty sure that if your mom was here she'd get mad at you for saying it," she said.

"I think it means asshole…" the boy mumbled, before shrugging. "I dunno, I heard my mom say it once when she was talking on the phone with somebody."

"Eren…" Armin gave his friend a scolding look.

"What?! It's true…" Eren said, scowling at the ground. "But don't worry, Armin! Me and Mikasa won't let anybody be mean to you ever again."

Mikasa nodded in agreement, and Armin smiled at the two. Suddenly, he was reminded of the time he sat in Eren's living room, remembering his two friends running to protect him before he even know them. A weird feeling spread in his stomach, but he didn't let it show; Mikasa and Eren had worried about him enough.

Despite Eren and Mikasa's promises, the bullying slowly got worse over the months. Armin tried to hide it from the two at first, but it didn't work well; he was often tormented during recess. After Mikasa and Eren found out that the bullying hadn't stopped, they would often chase after the kids who were doing it. It never worked very well, however. Still, Armin was comforted by the fact that his friends cared so much about him.

Summer came as a much-needed break. The three friends spent their time as care-free as possible, knowing that when school started again, so would the bullying.

The tormenting started almost as soon as fifth grade began for Armin. It was just the same as last year—kids taunting and mimicking him whenever they got the chance. However, in mid-October, one kid "accidentally" shoved Armin to the ground during recess. The boy landed on his hands and knees in a pile of muddy leaves, and the kid who pushed him smirked and started walking away.

Words rang in Armin's ears—hurtful words, some he recognized and some he didn't.

_"Worthless," slurred drunkenly past cigarette-stained lips._

_"Pathetic." A jeer revealing crooked and missing teeth in a 10-year-old mouth._

_"Heretic." A shadow smirked from the darkness, shoving him against a wall. _

Suddenly, hands were wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him up off the ground. Armin flinched instinctively, getting ready to try and escape before realizing it was Mikasa.

"Armin, are you okay?" she asked, concern etched onto her face.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," Armin said, trying to shake some of the mud off his hands and wiping at the knees of his pants. "Where's Eren?"

Mikasa didn't answer, instead glancing over to where the sound of several angry screams was coming from. Following her line of vision, Armin saw that, a little ways away from them, Eren was clinging to the pack of the bully, pounding at him with his fists.

"Eren!" the blond cried, running towards the scene.

The boy didn't seem to hear him, and instead continued attacking the other kid, who screamed at him to get off. Grabbing the back of Eren's shirt, Armin tried in vain to pull him away.

"Eren, stop! What are you doing?!" he yelled. Mikasa appeared beside him then, and started pulling at their friend as well.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Suddenly, a teacher was there, pushing Mikasa and Armin out of the way and grabbing Eren, successfully yanking him off the other boy.

"He just attacked me, out of nowhere!" the boy said, rubbing at his cheek, where Eren had managed to punch him rather hard.

"_Schwein_!" Eren yelled, looking like he was about to have another go at the kid before the teacher grabbed his arm, holding him back.

"Both of you, come with me," he snapped, taking hold of the other boy's arm as well, and leading the two of them away.

Eren ended up suspended for two days, and wasn't allowed to leave his house after school or on weekends for a month. That incident, however, brought to light Armin's situation with the bullies, something he'd refused to tell his grandfather or any teachers about beforehand. His grandfather called the school, and the guilty kids were punished accordingly.

Afterwards, the bullying seemed to lighten up; it was still there, but Armin could deal with it.

In mid-November, Armin's grandfather announced that the two of them will be going to England for Christmas. They were going to stay at his sister's, Armin's great-aunt, house, and he would be meeting most of his other family members as well.

Armin was, of course, excited for the trip; it had been five years since he'd last been to England. Silently, he wondered if he'd be able to see his parents again, though he knew the chances of that were slim to none. Still, he clung to the small hope that, maybe, he would.

They left early in the morning on December 17th, two days before winter break started. Armin said goodbye to Mikasa and Eren the day before; the two spent most of the time complaining about how boring it would be without him. He just laughed, and promised he'd be back soon.

The flight was long and tiring. Armin spent it reading, or looking out the window as they crossed the Atlantic Ocean; he'd never actually been to the sea, but when he caught glimpses of it through the clouds beneath him, it looked beautiful, all blue and sparkling in the sun.

When they landed in London, Armin was exhausted and cranky, even though it was only 1:30pm back home. They still had to drive an hour or so to where his Great-Aunt Isla lived, and he slept the entire way. The old woman was waiting for them in her front window; as soon as she saw the car roll up her driveway, she jumped up and ran to the door flinger it open.

"Peter!" she cried, running outside in nothing but slippers, despite the soft dusting of snow on the ground. The second her brother was out of the car, she threw her arms around him. "Oh, it's been _so long_!"

Armin's grandfather hugged her back, smiling widely. "It really has been too long." He agreed.

"You sound so American!" Isla laughed, before noticing Armin, standing quietly near the van. "You must be Armin!" she said, going over the boy and smiling down at him; he nodded. "It's very nice to meet you. Now! Let's go inside before we all freeze to death. I'll help you with your things."

Over the next few days leading up to Christmas, several more people arrived and crammed themselves into Isla's rather small house. Another great-aunt and her husband showed up, as well as Armin's father's brother and his family. He met his three cousins, one of whom was older than him by two years and the others who were a few years younger. The four of them squeezed into Isla's sewing room, with three mattresses on the floor and tables covered in thread and fabric.

On Christmas Eve, Armin lied awake on his makeshift bed, staring up at the ceiling; it was too dark to see much, but he could trace the faint outline of the light with his eyes. His cousins slept soundly around him, their breathing almost inaudible beneath the sound of the adults talking and shuffling around in the living room.

The boy had only been half-listening, not really paying attention to what they were saying, until he heard his father's name mentioned. His attention peeked, Armin crawled silently out of bed, making sure not to wake his cousins, and crept to the door, where he could hear better.

His uncle was talking about he'd gone to visit his brother in prison a few months ago. He was about to say more, but his wife shushed him before he got the chance. Even as the conversation travelled to other topics, Armin stayed, crouched by the door, until someone walked back and he scurried back to bed.

They went back home on January 2nd. Mikasa and Eren were sitting outside on Eren's front yard, surrounded by snowmen, waiting for him when they pulled up in front of his grandfather's house. Before he was even out of the car they were trying to talk to him, telling him how much they missed him and that they spent all day outside waiting for him and built at least one hundred snowmen to pass the time.

They visited England again that summer. Mikasa wasn't too happy about that, as Eren was going to Germany at around the same time, leaving her all alone. When both of them got back, she spent at least a week complaining to them about how bored she had been and how they were not allowed to both go to Europe at the same time ever again.

The bullying lightened up considerably in sixth grade, mostly because the ones who did it the most had moved to the junior high school. However, in seventh grade it started right back up where it left off when Armin started attending the school, except with a much more violent note. Armin ended the second week with a bloody nose and a torn-up book, and after that everything just went downhill. The bullies came up with new names to taunt and attack him with, and remembered not to do anything mean to him when Eren and Mikasa were around. They sought him out when he was alone, just to push him against the wall and spit words like faggot at him.

Despite all this, Armin never fought back, and he never told Eren or Mikasa about it; he always felt useless and pathetic when they ran to his rescue, and he just stood back and watched it happen. Instead, he hid from the bullies as best as he could, and always cleaned himself up before anybody saw him.

* * *

**A/N: We're finally going to start getting somewhere with the next few chapters. :D Hurray!  
You can also find this story on : s/9770639/1/Dead-Hearts  
And on my Tumblr: tagged/libbyisactuallywriting**


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